


we’re running free (like it’s only you and me)

by thispieceofmind



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Non AU, Shameless 2011 fic, and it takes place in Belize, because I was inspired, that's all i can really give
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 10:20:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thispieceofmind/pseuds/thispieceofmind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"Harry hasn’t heard of Belize before, but apparently it’s beautiful and has water so clear that you can look down and not be scared of what’s at the bottom."</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Shameless 2011!era Belize fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we’re running free (like it’s only you and me)

**Author's Note:**

> If you need some visuals! [one,](http://media.tumblr.com/04f1fff22c957617f2df1bb175d78ad6/tumblr_inline_ml7zxj6pah1qz4rgp.png) [two](http://media.tumblr.com/aa99a19229741bc4e1ab9dfc1729be36/tumblr_inline_ml7zx9YW2q1qz4rgp.png), [three](http://media.tumblr.com/3974377d8a259e3a8324acde6e003b43/tumblr_inline_ml7zwymFsa1qz4rgp.png).  I was here over spring break, and damn, was I inspired. Enjoy!

They go to Belize. Harry hasn’t heard of Belize before, but apparently it’s beautiful and has water so clear that you can look down and not be scared of what’s at the bottom. They go to Belize, and Harry knows that they’re trying to be won over. They hear a spiel about _good impressions_ and _the future_ , and Harry just knows. He knows the way that they’re looking at him and Louis especially, and his hand taps on his knee so he doesn’t say anything. 

Packing is a struggle, a little. He digs through his closet anyway, and picks out shorts and t-shirts and bathing suits, and it’s odd because it’s just May and it’s still pretty chilly most days. Hell, he and Louis had just gone skiing. He blames London for his troubles. 

“Harry!” Louis wails from down the hall. “God, help me.” 

“M’not God, but I’ll try,” Harry responds, walking in to see Louis sprawled on his bed surrounded by mounds of clothes. 

“Lovely!” Louis exclaims, mimicking the woman from their management team’s voice. “You’ll be leaving tomorrow. Pack up!” He rolls his eyes and snorts. “I need more time to pack, Christ. I’m tired,” he moans. 

“Stop whining, would you?” 

He looks up at Harry to glare, and then flops back down again. “Ugh,” he mutters. “Don’t you know what I grew up with?” Harry looks at him blankly. “ _Girls_. Girls, Harry. Little girls. Whining is their _religion._ ” 

“Well,” Harry starts, climbing on Mt. Fashionable Clothing and pressing his nose into Louis’ neck. “How about we stop the whining, finish packing, and then order Chinese so we can watch _One Tree Hill_ and then get a good night’s sleep for our long day of flying tomorrow, yeah?”  

“You’ll help me pack?” 

Harry smiles and kisses his neck (because he can and they do that). “Of course. Give me ten. I’m turning on the stereo.”  It doesn’t take long for Harry to pack, once he’s back in his room. He folds everything neatly and puts it in his suitcase. He putzes around in the bathroom and puts together a bag with all the things he think he and Louis might possibly need. He bounces around to the music, suddenly filled with excitement about the fact that he’s going to Belize, and it’s going to be warm and sunny and there’s a beach and his boys. 

Once his bag is neatly packed and his carryon with a book or two is the living room, he pops into Louis’ room, only to see he hasn’t moved an inch. 

“Louis,” he starts, his eyes reprehensible. “Have you not packed at all?” 

Louis opens his eyes and curls his lower lip into a pout. “I was waiting for you. You know I can’t fold. No wrinkles, right?” 

Harry sighs and flops dramatically onto the bed. He presses his face into Louis’ bicep. “I feel like a maid.”  

“You haven’t got the costume.” 

“I could make it happen,” Harry argues. 

“I think it’d suit you,” Louis muses. 

“Are you saying I’m meant to be a maid?” 

“No, you’ve just got nice legs.” 

“Thanks,” Harry mutters. 

Louis hums noncommittally, and Harry knows that he’s going to be doing all the packing. 

In the end, he winds up digging through Louis’ clothes and holding something up, and if Louis likes it, he folds it up and places it in the bag. If he doesn’t like it, back in the closet it goes. (Louis’ closet winds up a lot cleaner than it had been originally.) Louis lays on the bed the whole time, his shirt rucked up as he runs his hands across his stomach, and Harry just rolls his eyes and tries not to stare. 

“Anything else, your majesty?” Harry asks when his bag is in the living room too. 

“Hmm, Chinese, _One Tree Hill_ , and cuddles?” 

Harry shakes his head. “So demanding,” he mutters under his breath, but he’s smiling, and he orders the food anyway. 

They curl up in bed together, sides pressed closely, and they knock elbows a little as they eat noodles from cartons. They watch two episodes, but then they’re tired and warm and fantasizing about the beach in Belize, so Harry turns off the telly and makes to leave. Louis grabs his arm, though, fingers warm and tight around his wrist. 

“Stay tonight?” he asks. “You said cuddles.” 

Harry beams. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Okay, just gimme a sec.” He stands and cracks off his back, pulls off his joggers and his t-shirt, and flicks off the light. He gropes his way back to bed, sets an alarm on his phone, and curls into Louis. An arm wraps around his waist, and he breathes deep. He likes this. He likes being close to Louis. It keeps him warm and he likes to feel the way he breathes. 

“Thanks, by the way, Haz, for helping me out,” Louis mumbles sleepily into his shoulder. “Where would I be without you?” 

Harry turns in his arms, looks in his eyes that are slowly drifting shut. He noses his cheek (because he can and they do that). “Maybe lonely. Probably starving. Definitely unpacked.” 

“Yeah,” Louis murmurs, and his voice is thick. Harry knows he’s not really listening anymore. “Yeah, night, Haz. Tired.” He kisses Harry’s cheek. 

“Night, Lou,” Harry whispers, but he’s already out like a light. 

*** 

They go to Belize, and Louis holds his hand on all the flights. (He doesn’t like the planes.) They settle in, and Niall lets out a halfhearted cheer at the empty seat next to him. The announcements come on, the pilot, the little movie promoting the airline, and then they’re taxiing to get in line for take off. Harry is sandwiched between Zayn and Louis, and he’s a little twitchy, fingers fiddling with the seatbelt and his hair. Louis leans into him. 

“Hey,” he says. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” Harry responds, probably too quickly. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

Louis sees straight through him. “Nervous?” 

Harry looks at his lap and nods. “A bit.” 

Louis smiles gently and lifts the arm rest between them. He settles closer into his side and takes Harry’s hand in his. “We’re gonna be famous, flying all round the word. You gotta get used to this, popstar.” He pulls on the string of Harry’s sweatshirt, but squeezes his hand anyway. “But I guess it’s okay if you need something to hold onto, yeah?” 

“Thanks, Lou,” Harry whispers, because he sees the way Zayn is glancing at them. 

Louis uses his free hand to ruffle Harry’s hair. “‘Course, Haz.” 

And then they’re taking off and Harry is squeezing tight (because he can and they do that). 

Harry holds Louis’ hand until they’re at cruising height and speed, but even then their hands stay on the same arm rest, and Louis’ thumb runs over Harry’s knuckles occasionally. The tension eases out of him, and he eventually finds the courage to sit back and read because he definitely has time to burn. He doesn’t clear through much until they’re coming around with drinks and he has a headache, but once Louis tells him to get some rest, he does. 

When they’re in Belize, it’s a breath of fresh air in both the figurative and literal senses. They walk off the plane to shockingly hot and humid weather, and suddenly, jeans don’t seem like the most brilliant idea. It’s sunny and gorgeous, and they all dig through carryons to find sunglasses, because they walk straight off the airplane and onto the ground. They weave through customs and baggage claim, and then baggage check again, which really is more of handing their bags off to some guys because this next flight is not what they’re expecting. 

The plane only sits about ten and a pilot, and they soon realize that Placencia must be tiny. Zayn is excited about sitting shotgun, because he gets to ogle the controls and see straight out. Harry, Louis, Liam, and Niall sit toward the front, and Harry grip on Louis’ hand is harder than ever. It’s briefly told that their flight should be about twenty-five minutes, and then they’re off, flying over miles and miles of stunning beach, green trees, and gorgeous water. Harry has never seen anything like it in his life. The pilot tells them that Belize has the world’s second cleanest ecosystem in the world, right after Australia. 

He doesn’t even realize his hand in Louis’ after a while, they just stare dreamily out the window. The landing is rather scary, because they come in over water and then pull in a runway that looks half the size it should be. But they roll in and get off the tiny plane, well, they’re here. 

They’re in Belize, and the hotel is small but beautiful. They have a villa and three beds, so Harry and Louis claim one for themselves and Zayn clings to Liam, and Niall is just happy he gets to sprawl out on his own. 

They’re in Belize, and Harry doesn’t think that he’s ever seen water so clear and blue. The water is clear and blue and he can’t stop staring. Maybe, it’s because there’s sunlight glinting off the surface and it’s sparkling and glistening. Maybe it’s because the sea and the sky meet at the horizon and he can’t tell where each one ends. But he thinks maybe it’s the way Louis dives underneath the surface of that blue water and pops up again, slicking his hair back and smiling. Harry smiles back but has to suck in a breath, because he doesn’t know what he’s thinking. He doesn’t know what he’s thinking, but he thinks he’s always thought it. 

Maybe he thinks too much. 

They spend the rest of the evening on the beach, which is really only a little bit more than an hour. At five thirty, Niall rounds them up. 

“Lads,” he starts, “it’s cocktail hour.” 

Louis perks up. “You reckon they’ll serve you all? I mean, I, being of age, am not worried. Mostly concerned for baby Harry.” 

“You’re the runt,” Zayn agrees, nodding sadly. 

“I am not a runt!” Harry exclaims indignantly. 

“Aren’t those a sweet?” Liam asks. 

“Yeah!” Niall says. “Harry, you’re a banana runt.” 

Harry pouts. Louis ruffles his hair and leans toward his ear. “If it’s any consolation, banana runts were always the best flavor.” 

“It’s not,” Harry grumbles. 

And Louis laughs, standing. “I’ll get him a cosmo, perk him right up.” 

So they get cosmos and sit on the roof of one of the villas under the thatched roof, and they lean back in their chairs and watch the sun roll over their heads and cross the sky to settle under the lagoon, bringing the darkening of the day with it. The ocean rolls in and out and makes a soundtrack to his spring, and Harry looks at Louis to his left and his boys to his right and he can’t imagine a moment more serene. 

In the evening, they listen to the way the waves are crashing and note the way the lights that line the paths around the villas are a green that makes the hotel come a live at night. It’s probably far too early when Liam, Zayn, and Niall go to bed, but Harry is still staring wide-eyed at the water, and it doesn’t look like Louis is getting up anytime soon. 

“Hammock?” Louis asks. “I wanna lay down.” 

Harry stands from his chaise and gives a hand to Louis to pull him from his. 

Harry eyes the colored rope of the hammock. “Will it hold us both?” 

Louis scoffs. “Sure it will. Come ‘ere, then.” 

Harry gets in carefully and holds his arms open for Louis. He crawls into his grip, and Harry pulls him close, breathes into his neck and stays quiet. It’s a bit of a tight squeeze, but his hands are pressing gently into Louis’ hips and the beach is still making the gentle sound of the fall and crash of the sea. He pushes his nose into Louis’ hair, soft after his shower between the beach and supper (because he can and they do that). 

Louis lays his hands over Harry’s and takes a breath so deep that Harry can feel it. Harry so badly wants to twine their fingers like on the plane, but he’s not so sure what would come from it (because he’s not so sure if he can, or if they do that). 

So he sits in the quiet of their breathing and the crash of the waves and says, “I love that sound.” 

“The sea?” Louis asks quietly. 

“Yeah, it’s one of my favorite sounds. Makes me think of childhood, I dunno. It’s soothing.” Louis hums in agreement. 

“Always loved the sea,” Louis agrees, and Harry loves moments like this – when they’re quiet and more serious, and it’s times like this when Harry thinks he could just whisper his love in Louis’ ear and see if he would get away with it, if Louis would act any different. He wonders if it would go unnoticed, just be carried out to sea and forgotten. Indifferent. He doesn’t dare to test the waters. 

“I remember when I was young Mum would take me to Brighton, and we would throw rocks in the water and make wishes.”  

Harry’s quiet for a moment. “Did any of them come true?” he asks. 

Louis turns his body to fit into Harry’s side rather than on top of him. Harry sees him smile. “Some.” 

“Yeah?” Harry asks, and he cards a hand through Louis’ hair (because, this, they can, and they do that). 

“Yeah,” Louis whispers. 

“Good,” Harry affirms, so they listen to the sea for a while longer, and Harry wonders what wish came true, and if he made one, if it would, too. 

The next morning, Harry wakes up with Louis’ arm around his waist, and a stream of sunlight warm on the skin of his torso. He lets his eyes adjust and then he lets himself look at Louis for a moment, hair in his eyes and skin sunkissed. Harry smooths a hand across his forehead to get the hair from his face. He checks his watch to see it’s only half seven. He sits up, back against the headboard, but Louis’ head finds his thigh, his arm finds his waist, and sleepy blue eyes look up to see Harry. 

“Haz? What time is it?” Louis mumbles into the skin of his torso. 

“Too early,” Harry says quietly. He smooths the hair off of Louis’ forehead again. “Go back to sleep, Lou.” 

“M’kay.”  

And he does. 

Harry stays awake for another half an hour, staring at the furniture of the room and listening to soft music through earbuds. He pets Louis’ hair absentmindedly. 

He’s lost track of time when Louis awakes, but Harry’s been looking for quite a while when he does. His eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks, and his eyes flutter open. He sends Harry a sleepy smile. Harry has to hold back a gasp because sometimes Louis is so bright it feels blinding. He wants to kiss him good morning (but he doesn’t because he can’t and they don’t do that). 

They’re in Belize, and it’s just the two of them, for a bit. Louis’s got on a black tank top and blue shorts that stop right above the knee and those sunglasses, and Harry has to continually remind himself not to stare. Louis is sipping his tea (not Yorkshire, much to his chagrin) and Harry’s hiding his grin behind the rim of his coffee mug. 

“Why are you so smiley?” Louis asks him. “And yes, you need a reason,” he tacks on, knowing Harry’s typical response when he’s happy: _do I need a reason to be?_

Harry laughs. “Just you. Belize. The sea. I dunno, I’m just happy.” 

“Good. I _should_ be the light of your life.” 

_More than you know_ , Harry wants to say, but he just keeps smiling. 

*** 

Harry can’t stop staring again, and this time he’s not looking at the sea. Louis is lying next to him on one of the green chaises, sunglasses by his side, chest rising and falling slowly. His eyes are closed. Harry is attempting to read a book, but he can’t stop looking over the top of the pages. He’s blatantly checking Louis out, but it seems the sun – like everything else – can’t get enough of him. He’s positively golden, and oh, Harry wants him. Harry wants him so badly. He wants to put his hands on his hipbones and find out what the rest of his skin tastes like and kiss him until he can’t breathe. 

He’s wanted since the very beginning. (And even more when he had to rub sun cream on Louis’ back this morning, because, “I know I never burn, but the equator can be frightening. Sunburn just won’t do.”) 

(Louis has a very nice back.) 

Harry takes a deep breath and takes a sip of his water, eyes still watching the gentle rise and fall of Louis’ chest. If he wasn’t so sweaty, he’d want to curl up into his side. He sighs and pushes his hair off his forehead, too curly in the humidity and looking what he assumes is ridiculous. After a while of just sitting in the sun, he grows hot and irritated, so sparing one last glance at Louis, he gets up to get in the water. The ocean is warm, water sparkly and blue and just the refreshing feeling he needs. He pays no attention to the shore, just watching the few fish that dart past and the other people who swim feet away. 

He nearly screams when a pair of hands cover his eyes. He could recognize the body pressed into his back anywhere. “Louis,” he hisses. “You scared the shit out of me.” 

“S’my job, love,” Louis grins. “Float with me?” he asks. 

“Okay,” Harry says. 

So they float, and Harry lays next to Louis on the surface of the water and tips his head back and closes his eyes and drifts with no destination in particular and it feels rejuvenating. He feels just as buoyant as the salt water makes him, and the floating feeling is like drifting on top of every worry he’s ever had. And with Louis at his side, it’s as peaceful as he’s ever felt. He’s not sure how long they stay out there, and he’s not sure he cares, but he’s positive his cheeks are going to be tinged pink, and they’re a little closer to the right than they were before. 

When they go back to their chairs, legs stomping in the knee-high water, everything around them sounds like it’s mending to them, the squeals of children being blocked out and only the wind and the sea in their ears. They sit for a while longer, and this time when Harry looks, he finds Louis looking too, and then they’ll smile or blush or look away hastily. Harry still wants him, water droplets on his skin and sunshine in his eyes. 

*** 

Nighttime turns into something for them. 

They get back from the town and squishing on the golf cart, and Niall, Liam, and Zayn turn in without second glance. Harry says he’s going for the roof, and he doesn’t have to turn around to know that Louis is coming with him. Up there Harry feels like he could take over the whole world. He sees the tops of the villas and the pier and hut that stretches into the sea and miles and miles of endless sea. He hears the waves crashing and Louis’ soft breathing and when he looks up he thinks he has never seen so many stars. 

“God,” he breathes, “that is the most beautiful thing.” 

He hears Louis suck in a breath. Their heads are tipped back, and Harry feels invincible. They’re in Belize and Louis is at his side and the stars are telling him about love and infinity. “I think that’s one of the things I don’t like about London,” Louis says. “No bloody stars.” 

Harry pauses. “Makes them special then, right?” 

Louis doesn’t say anything, but his hand finds Harry’s on the arm rest, and he tangles their fingers. Harry’s not so sure how long they sit out there, but then Louis is saying, “This is definitely special,” and they sit outside until they can’t keep their eyes open any longer. 

*** 

They go snorkeling, and Harry falls more in love with Belize. They water is crystal clear, and the boat ride is an hour but the wind is in his hair that’s too curly from humidity and Louis and Liam make him laugh, and he feels so alive. He doesn’t know where to start thinking or how to answer _how did I get here_ , so he doesn’t. He breathes in salty fresh air and lets himself live in the along. 

Zayn is petulant and grumpy when Liam sprays him with the shower head on board, but Harry grins at him from the water where they’re watching the fish and the sea turtles nearly as big as him and the nurse sharks with their friends that suck on their skin. Harry’s sure he smiles back. 

He’s fairly fried by the end of the day, cheeks too pink and hair curly and feeling a bit like hay from all the salt. Louis is golden and tan, and Harry still wants to feel his warmth. 

That night, instead of the roof, they laugh with what little energy they have left and run down the pier to the hut that makes them feel like they’re in the middle of the Caribbean, just the two of them. They collapse onto the same chaise, high on each other and the water and every beautiful thing they saw that day. They pant for a little, and Harry feels almost surreal, his head on Louis’ chest, listening to the fast beating of his heart from running. He waits until it steadies to say anything. 

“Do you think about us getting really big?” Harry asks. “As like a band, I mean.” His voice is low, and he molds his hand to Louis’ hip. 

“I like to hope so,” Louis whispers back. “We start recording almost as soon as we get back.” 

“I’m scared, Lou,” Harry admits. “I mean, I am so, so excited, but  – it’s scary, y’know? We’ve only gotten, like, a taste of fame, or whatever. I mean, I don’t feel famous. But sometimes you think about it too hard, and it’s like, I don’t want to lose myself before I find myself.” 

Louis’ lips find his neck. Harry lets out a shuddery sigh. “I understand. I don’t want to let go of anything, but I am having so much fun already. Plus, we’ve got each other, right? That’s ought to count for something.” 

“It does,” Harry breathes. “It does count.” 

“We’ll make it,” Louis says. “We will.” 

“You think we’ll be okay?” Harry asks, and his hair falls in his eyes, and he can see Louis shining in the moonlight between ringlets. 

“We’re always okay. We’ve got each other. And our other three, too. We’re always gonna be okay.” 

“You think, Lou?” Harry asks, pulling Louis close to him and kissing his collarbone (because he can and they do that). 

Louis shifts in his arms and curls their fingers around each other. “I’ve got you, haven’t I?” 

Harry smiles into Louis’ skin. 

*** 

The next day brings a hike that they estimate to be much shorter and much less advanced, but also a pool of water and a set of double waterfalls with water so cool and refreshing that Harry finds himself not wanting to leave. They’re stupid and reckless, and they jump off of cliffs and laugh into each other’s wet skin. They swim and climb and sweat, but it’s so worth it, because they’re in Belize and they’re together. 

Harry wants to die, at one point, climbing up the mountain, but then Louis is offering him a hand at a particularly steep spot with a grin and, “Get your arse up here, Curly!” and Harry supposes it can’t be so bad. 

So the afternoon goes like this: drinking profuse amounts of water, managing to drive home, eating, beaching, and eating again. They’re exhausted, by day’s end, because they hiked four miles uphill in the beating sun, and that tends to take a toll on someone, but Harry still wants to watch the stars and he wants Louis with him, so he takes his hand before he even glances a second time at their bed. 

“Come outside with me, Lou?” His eyes are wide. 

Louis nods, and he winds their fingers together rather than the grip Harry had on his pulse point in his wrist. Harry squeezes (because he can and they do that), and Louis squeezes back. 

“Where to?” Louis asks, because they have about three options, and it’s repeat night. 

“Hammock,” Harry says, eyeing one on the beach rather than the deck. “Definitely hammock. M’tired, but I want the stars and the water.” 

“Okay,” Louis says, so they walk with their toes in the sand, leaving prints that will be gone tomorrow, and Louis sits first. He lets Harry into his arms, and Harry feels like he’s in his bubble and can’t be touched. Louis’ arms are tight around his waist. 

He looks at Louis, at his eyes almost silvery in the barely-there lighting of a watery moonlight, and he looks at his mouth and his nose and the roundness of his eyebrows and the jut of his cheekbones. He looks at Louis and thinks _I am so in love with you_. 

He wants to say it. Harry wants to tell him and he wants a loud love that he knows now that he’s never going to have. But he thinks that maybe any kind of love with Louis would be loud, all boisterous actions and saying _fuck it_ and being whatever they want to be because they can. Harry is in love and he doesn’t know how to say it. How do you talk about love, anyway? Do you talk about love with gentle fingers twined together and soft smiles and bright eyes and unspoken promises? Do you talk about love with the special laugh for that certain person and the secrets that you’ve told only them and the honest hugs and that safeness you feel around them? Do you talk about love with a brush of the lips or a bite on the neck or just with presence alone? Do you talk about love at all? 

Harry doesn’t know – he doesn’t know how, and he thinks he might talk about love with all of those things, but he needs to talk about love with lips, teeth, and tongue, too. He takes a deep breath, doesn’t stop looking. “Hey, Louis?” Harry asks. He might be hard to hear, voice low and quiet and on the verge of shaking a little. 

“Yeah, Haz?” Louis responds, taking his free hand and running his hand through Harry’s hair. Some of the tension in Harry’s body drips away. 

“I want to talk about love with you, and I want to kiss you really bad.” 

Louis is quiet for a moment, and Harry wants to watch his reaction longer, but he doesn’t think he’s brave enough. He mumbles something that Harry can’t quite make out. 

“What?” Harry whispers nervously. (He can’t stop the shake in his voice, that time.) 

“I said, so do it.” 

“Do what?” 

“Talk about love with me, and kiss me.” 

Harry almost wants to splutter and say _really?_ but the look on Louis’ face doesn’t exactly scream _I’m kidding_ and their eyes are searching each other’s, so he cups Louis’ jaw in his hands, and he can hear his heartbeat thrumming in his ears. He strokes along Louis’ cheeks, squeezes his hand, and lays one kiss to the very corner of Louis’ mouth. He shivers, and he watches Louis shiver, too. He hammock sways a little, but he crawls on top Louis’ lap so he can kiss him proper, and he doesn’t care too much about how forward he’s being. He wants and he loves, so he’s going to do. 

He looks down first, and he thinks of all the things he has and hasn’t done, and all the things he wants to do and all the things he will. Louis stares back with the shiny blue eyes and Harry leans down and kisses him gently, with soft lips and hesitance, but it’s more than he could ask for, being so close to him. Louis’ hands come to his hips and they kiss like it’s a journey, slow and warm, until they really move together and find a rhythm and each other and Harry wants to keep him close forever. Harry kisses like he’s talking; he’s talking about love. He tells Louis in every movement he makes because he needs to recognize the twist in his tummy and the way he lights up around him. 

Louis is telling him right back. The sea is still whispering secrets to the sand, and Louis lips are whispering things to Harry. When they pull back, it’s to wide eyes scared but elated and Harry wants to kiss him again. 

“I want to talk about love with you,” Harry says again. 

“We can talk about whatever you want,” Louis breathes, airy and sounding almost winded. 

Harry kisses up his neck. “I want you to tell me everything I don’t already know about you.” 

Louis stares at the sky, the stars that are saying infinity, and then he looks at Harry. “I want to talk about love with you, too. I’d tell you everything.” 

“Can you kiss me again, first?” Harry asks meekly, and when Louis does, he feels a lot like the sea whispering secrets to the sand and the stars saying infinity.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! I appreciate any feedback, and I love you all! I'm on tumblr at eroticlou.


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